Grimly
by I'mJustAGirlWithAnImagination
Summary: Clary Fray, a normal teenager, finds herself killed in a car accident. But upon unveiling things about herself and that tragic day, she begins to question if it was an accident at all, or if something deeper and darker is occurring. With the help of a narcissistic, and infuriating Reaper, Jace, Clary's determined to find the truth, and stop whatever's behind the occurences
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: **_**Hey guys! So it's been a while since I've written something (too long and I miss it) so I've decided to start a new story to slowly get back into my grove of writing. I know this is short but if I didn't stop it here the first chapter would be a thousand pages long. But anyways I hope you enjoy and be sure to leave constructive criticism, it helps!**

**All of the characters belong to (Queen) Cassandra Clare**

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The autumn air, cool, crisp; the scent of pine is infused through the breeze as it swept up her unruly red hair, curls, damp with sweat, cling to her freckled forehead. Her music blares through her headphones, sealing out all traces of reality, plunging her into a swirl of gravelly vocals and upbeat tempos. Her breaths come and go in short wheezes as her lung greedily take in oxygen. She runs down the cracking off-white sidewalk, her feet slapping the pavement quietly as she encircles her neighborhood, occasionally nodding her head in a greeting at a passing cyclist. Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the leaves of the delicate, lush trees. She slows down to a light jog while checking both ways, up and down, the street before crossing it.  
It took five seconds for it to fully happen.  
One second to take a step onto the gravel of the road.  
One to hear the horn pierce through her musical daydream.  
One to feel pain ignite in a blaze along the right side of her body as an oncoming car rams into her.  
One to fall down; warm gravel, slick with her crimson blood, biting into her cheek.  
The last, despairful second to acknowledge her end.

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The frequent peak displayed on the LCD monitor and the steady tempo of her breaths comforted her into remembering that she was not dead, simply in a coma. Sitting in a stiff chair she watched her crumpled body as a spirit. Her numb fingers pushed on her temples as the torturing sound of her mother's wails continue from the other side of the room. It was almost as if she was suspended here, a waiting place before she moves on to her afterlife, and as if something more powerful than she is tallying up all her good and bad deeds to decide what will become of her.

"Interesting" An amused voice spoke up from behind her. Elated to _finally _have someone, after days of trying, be able to see her, she whips around in the plastic chair so quickly and clumsily it nearly collapses its already flimsy legs. A tall boy, who looked a few years older than she, leaned up against the frame of the door; with hardened yet lean muscles, bronzed skin, inked up with meticulous tattoos, golden eyes that danced with arrogance, and blonde hair that _should_ looked washed out under the hard, fluorescent lighting in the hospital yet made it appear as if there was a halo fitted on the crown of his head. Realizing she had been gazing at him for too long, though he looked used to the attention, she opened her mouth to speak,

"What's interesting?"

He chuckles, showing off a straight row of white teeth, and walks into the room "Well it's just that you humans have the ideology that gingers have no souls, by the looks of you I'd nearly believe it. And yet here we are, Clary"

Clary draws her eyebrows together, what did he mean by that? How did he know her name? And how could he see her? _Who is he?_

"Wow you sure know how to charm the pants right off of girls don't you? How did you know I melt at stereotyping?" She asks, sarcastically batting her eyelashes, before her real questions tumble past her lips, "Also seeing as you already know who I am, who are you? Are you in a coma too? How can you see me?"

His smile widens as he answers, "As a matter of fact I'm great with the ladies, seeing as drop dead gorgeous is everyone's type. I am Jace Herondale, also known as 'Death', 'The Grim Reaper', and 'That Fine Piece of Ass' on weekends. And no I'm not in a coma; I'm here, Ms. Clary Fray, to take your soul into your afterlife"

He stalks closer to her, like a lion trapping its prey, and unsheathes a gleaming knife.

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_**A/N: **_**Dun Dun Duuuuuunn cliffhanger! Thanks for reading it means a lot, I hope you found this somewhat decent**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi guys! Wow okay so Ive been gone for months, sorry about that. My computer caught a virus (ah the struggle of trying to watch TV shows online) but I'm back. This chapter is going to be very short just because I wanted to post something since Im going on a boat for a week and wont be able to type. But I'll try to post more in a few weeks and it'll hopefully be longer and better, this chapter was kind of rushed. So do people even read ANs or am I just spewing nonsense by writing this? Oh well I guess. **

**Oh and all the characters are Cassandra Clare's **

**Enjoy :)**

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_He stalks closer to her, like a lion trapping its prey, and unsheathes a gleaming knife._

"Woah woah woah there hot stuff, what are you doing with _that?_" Clary asks stumbling over her chair, it clamors to the floor as she recedes into the dusty, mustard-colored corner of her hospital room. She splays her hands in front of her as if soothing a wild beast.

Death glanced down at the blade clutched in his fist, golden waves cascaded over his forehead "I'm sorry, gingy but-"

"Clary." She interjects, lifting her freckled chin with bravado.

Facing her head on, a grin tugs at Jace's lips, his eyes dance with amusement, "What was that?"

"My name, is not _gingy, _it's Clary. And if you're going to kill me you might as well have the decency to say it properly."

He nods with approval; no one has ever stood up to him in this stage of the process. Many have begged, spittle dribbling from their ghastly lips; some go willingly, bowing their heads with graceful acceptance; a few have even pleaded to be taken sooner, away from the unbearable pain and anguish of their lives. But he never met one who challenged him, it was invigorating.

"You do realize that by expressing your distaste for the nickname makes me want to say it all the more"

"You do realize that by calling me that nickname you make me want to shove my foot so far up your ass you can taste my rubbery sole" Clary said in a sweet tone, nearly allowing herself to enjoy the playful banter. _Nearly_ she thought, her eyes snapping back to the dagger as her mind formulated a plan to escape.

Jace chuckled thoughtfully "Your soul has more of a glassy consistency, than rubbery"

Clary rolled her eyes as she remembered who he was "Funny. Also why are you, well, _you_? I thought Death was supposed to carry around a scythe and wear a holey black robe"

The Grimm Reaper arched a blonde eyebrow "Now who's stereotyping? I mean how do you mortals expect to know what I look like if those who see me don't live to tell the tale?"

Cold fear grips Clary as she tosses his words around in her mind _"those who see me don't live to tell the tale"_  
_I will _she thought as she set her jaw, coiling her muscles, she could feel the expansion of her lungs. Snapping her arm out, she jabbed the base of her hand into the hollow of his neck. Without wasting time Clary ran by him, not sure where she'd go or if she could even escape Death. Her mind screamed for her to get out of there, and her body obeyed.

"This has been one hell of a 24 hours" Clary grumbled, as she raced around unknown corners, plunging herself into unknown territory of the hospital.

Whipping her head around to see if Jace was still hot on her heels, Clary halted when she couldn't locate him.  
A hand wrapped around her waist, whirling her to face the looming figure that held her. Jace's face was mere inches from her own; an easy grin was painted on his mouth. Throwing herself out of his grasp, Clary fell to the floor but got up in an instant, holding her clenched fists in a stance she'd seen in many movies. She would not be taken so easily.

The reaper's grin turned into a full out laugh which almost earned him a punch in the face. "I like you Gingy, you won't go down easy; I really wish we'd met differently" he said, almost sadly. Faster than her eye could register, he grabbed both of her hands and raised the polished blade. A red and orange flame suddenly ignited between them, sending them both backwards a good three steps and on to their asses.

"What," Clary gravely asked, holding up strands of singed hair, "was that?"

"That, love, was your loophole." Jace responded "It looks like your death wasn't supposed to happen yet and you were murdered in cold blood, lucky for you I'm unable to take your soul and you get to go back into your body until you have closure, justice, ect." His smirk took it usual residence on his face as he continued "Oh this is going to be fun."

With that he snapped his fingers and a sharp sensation ran throughout her body as her spirit was being tugged back into it. A blinding light burned her pupils as she opened them.

"Oh my God. Doctors, nurse! She's up!" Clary could faintly hear her mother yell as consciousness enveloped her.

_Murdered_ the word had rolled off Death's tongue so easily, yet it left her feeling grossed and almost violated. Who would have done this to her? Who had Clary upset this much to lead them to do something as horrific as taking her life?

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**A/N: Well I hope you guys enjoyed (sorry if it seemed a bit rushed) But follow, like, and review if you so wish :)**


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